


Or rats' feet over broken glass

by momentinsubtext



Category: Doctor Who, Fake News FPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentinsubtext/pseuds/momentinsubtext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year between The Year That Never Was and Journey's End isn't kind to Stephen Colbert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or rats' feet over broken glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [devention](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devention/gifts).



> _Our dried voices, when_  
>  _We whisper together_  
>  _Are quiet and meaningless_  
>  _As wind in dry grass_  
>  _Or rats' feet over broken glass_  
>  ~ T.S. Elliot, "The Hollow Men"

_The Colbert Report_ doesn't air the day after President-Elect Winters is killed on live television. Or the next day. Or the next. Or the week after that, even. It's not that they don't try to contact Stephen, they do, but things are a little bit hectic and in all the chaos it's the end of the second week before Jon realises that even Stephen's wife hasn't seen him since before the broadcast.

 

Stephen has a little apartment just a block from his studio. It's where he goes when he's been working too late to justify going home. Jon's only been there once, but with a little luck and some maybe-possibly-not-a-hundred-percent-legal searching he manages to find the place.

The door isn't locked when he gets there and the only light is coming from the television. It's muted, though, and for just a moment Jon wonders why. Then he sees what's playing. No, this clip doesn't need any sound.

The British Prime Minister stands. The President-Elect dies. The Prime Minister's wife shoots him through the heart. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

For a couple of minutes he just stands there staring at the screen, then he shakes himself and turns a decent light on.

Stephen is sat on the floor, staring blankly at the television as if he's no longer even seeing what's there. That theory is immediately proved when Jon turns off the television and Stephen doesn't even blink. He looks... bad. Like maybe he's just been sitting there staring at that screen for days and days.

Jon kneels and waves his hand in front of his friends face, to absolutely no effect. "Stephen? Come on, buddy, it's been two weeks. I think it's time to join the rest of the world now, don't you?" Stephen turns at the sound of his voice, but his eyes are still completely and utterly blank and he clearly hasn't understood a word. "Okay, plan B it is, then."

He picks Stephen up in his arms --he's lighter than he should be-- and dumps him unceremoniously into the shower, turns the water on. After a moment, Stephen sputters and looks around as if he doesn't know where he is. It's entirely likely that he doesn't.

"Jon? What?" He looks down at himself. "This is dry-clean only!"

Jon laughs a little and ignores the blankness still lurking in Stephen's eyes.

 

Jon calls Lorraine the next day, tells her where Stephen is, that he's a little bit broken but he'll probably be home in a day or two. She's silent for a little while, then she thanks him and hangs up.

 

It's another month before Stephen is able to talk about the assassination on air, and even then his voice sometimes cracks and they have to reshoot three or four times.

"You know who I'd like to have as a guest?" he asks one day.

Jon shakes his head.

"Lucy Saxon. Does anyone even know what happened to her, after...?" He waves his hand vaguely. "I mean, she's a real hero. It'd be a shame if they had her locked her up somewhere for-" He stops, frowns down at his shaking hands. "I really though I was ready for that."

 

It gets harder and harder for Stephen to mock the current administration, even though they're running around like chickens with their heads cut off (and that analogy is now ruined for him forever). Jon shows up at his studio after a particularly trying day with beer, or wine, or... some sort of alcohol that he honestly can't remember an hour later.

They decide that turning up at either of their houses blindingly drunk is probably a horrendously stupid idea and it's definitely easier to stumble their way to Stephen's apartment than to get a cab anyway, even if Stephen does have to cling to Jon just to stay upright. They collapse immediately upon getting inside, not even attempting to aim for something soft like a bed or a couch to land on.

Stephen flails a little bit in an attempt to get back up that merely ends with most of his weight on top of Jon. "Thanksh," he slurs, and presses a little kiss to the corner of Jon's mouth. Jon looks at him strangely. "Wassh that wrong?"

"When are you ever wrong?" Jon says, and lets his head hit the ground again. He doesn't think it's particularly funny, but

Stephen is laughing and crying into his shoulder, and when he can't think of anything else to do he joins in.

 

He wakes up on the floor to the babble of the television and, after assuring himself that his back is not _actually_  broken, sits up and looks around in confusion. Stephen is locking the windows.

"What's going on?"

Stephen glances in his direction, then nods toward the television. "The cars are trying to kill us."

"Huh," he says, not yet sure if he hopes Stephen is crazy or not, and settles down in front of the television.

 

Outside it's just... grey. Very grey. There are so many cars in this part of the city, it's getting hard to see the buildings across the street through the fumes. Not that it was particularly easy to begin with, mind, but this is just...

"What are you looking at?" Stephen asks.

Jon shrugs. "The end of the world?"

He means it as a joke, but Stephen just nods and leaves him to it.

 

It isn't the end of the world, this time. In a few hours the sky catches fire, and then the world tries to go back to the way it was.

 

When the planets appear in the sky, Jon knows Stephen is in trouble. He checks the studio first and not finding him there, goes immediately to the apartment. All the curtains are closed and every light in the place is on, bright and artificial. He finds Stephen huddled in a corner, one hand clutching at his hair and the other holding his gun so tightly his knuckles are white. Not a good sign.

"Stephen?" he says tentatively, sitting down beside him.

"I can't think," Stephen says, his voice sounding very small. "It's too loud in my head and I can't _think_."

Jon doesn't know what to say to that, so instead he eases the gun out of Stephen's hand and slides it across the floor. (He doesn't check, but if he did he'd discover that the gun is unloaded). A second later he finds himself with an armful of sobbing Stephen Colbert and holds him until he goes silent and still.

When he's sure Stephen is asleep he carefully moves him to the bed and tucks him in, presses a very light kiss to his temple. He finds Stephen's hand around his wrist when he moves to go.

"Stay," Stephen mumbles, so he lies down beside him and stays.

 

When Stephen wakes up the next morning, a large floating pepperpot has just come through the window and is staring at him with a single eye like a camera lens and he instinctively tilts his head to give it his better side.

"Trying to sleep here," he grumbles, and sure, they aren't great last words, he figures, but they're better than screaming like a girl.

"Exterminate!" the Dalek says.

He curls around Jon a little bit and closes his eyes. A half second too late, he realises that "I love you" would have been decent last words.


End file.
